


Check Between the Lines (The Obscured Words Remix)

by inksheddings



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 09:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4174179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inksheddings/pseuds/inksheddings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank had said that James would never be like his father. Winona thought <i>Good,</i> because then, at least, he'd stay alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Check Between the Lines (The Obscured Words Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arabwel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabwel/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Letter from Frank](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2321384) by [Arabwel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabwel/pseuds/Arabwel). 



> Thank you, **Arabwel** , for the opportunity to remix your work. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> This work of fiction is basically gen, though relationships are referred or alluded to in the story.
> 
> Thanks to my amazingly talented beta, **whymzycal** , for all the extremely necessary assistance.

**Check Between the Lines (The Obscured Words Remix)**

Face-offs between Frank and James were becoming far too common these days, especially with Sam spending so much time at friends' houses, leaving James on his own and too bored for his own good. It was all Winona could do to keep it civil around meal times.

"You little shit, you'll never be your father."

Winona heard Frank speak to her son with words wrought more with whiskey than intentional cruelty, and all she could think was _Good._

What she said, however, moving to stand not quite between the two of them, was "Frank, why don't you go and wash up. We'll eat soon. James, I need you to come over here and help me set the table."

She cringed inside at the obviousness of her tactics and wondered when she'd become so very transparent, insubstantial.

Truthfully, Winona would rather have sent Frank on some pointless errand in town, giving both herself and her son a little space and time to breathe properly, but he'd had enough to drink that he might end up either arrested or injured or—

"Now, Frank. Please," she said, her voice louder than she'd have liked.

Frank's fists were tight at his sides and Winona didn't know if he would let it go, but she knew James definitely wouldn't if she didn't give him something else to concentrate on. She walked over and pulled James into the kitchen, setting him in front of the cabinets where the plates were kept. She heard Frank heading toward the bathroom or the bedroom; she really didn't care. They'd have dinner together, if not as a family then at least as people without black eyes and DUI convictions.

At ten, James was due a growth spurt that would either make things easier or harder, but for now he was short for his age and had to use a step stool to reach the water glasses on the upper shelf. He looked so unbearably young, and Winona's breath caught as she reached out and touched his hair. James swatted her hand away, mumbling "Quit it," because what he lacked in height he made up for in brains, and he knew damn well that Frank's words were as much her own fault as anyone else's.

Frank said that James would never be like his father. Winona thought _Good,_ because then, at least, he'd stay alive. 

*****

"If you didn't fuck up so much, kid, I wouldn't need to do this."

Winona couldn't get the door open. It was an old door, in an old house. There was no passcode to enter, no voice command, just a basic privacy lock that was not allowing her to enter James' bedroom. 

"Frank! Open the door."

"Everything's okay, Winona. James and I are just having a little talk about personal responsibility."

Frank sounded calm and Winona twisted the knob harder, well aware it wouldn't help her unlock the door. 

"Like you're personally responsible for all the empty beer bottles cluttering up the trash can that I have to empty every night?" Jim said, and Winona started a frantic cadence against the old wooden door. "Jim, open the door now, please!" 

"You wanna see what I can do with one of those empty beer bottles, Jimmy? Hmmm?"

Winona nearly slammed her head against the door in frustration when she finally remembered the straightened paper clip she had left above the bathroom door when Jim was still young enough to lock himself in and get up to all sorts of mischief. She dashed down the hall, praying it hadn't fallen or been thrown away because it had been years since she'd needed it, since she'd checked for it.

"Why, you gonna shove one up your ass, old man? Whatever gets your rocks off, but I don't particularly want to watch."

Winona nearly tripped on the slick wooden floor but kept herself upright as she felt about the top of the door frame, and then her fingers felt the cool, thin piece of metal and— 

It was the lack of sound, the lack of angry words that scared her more than anything as she ran back to Jim's room. At thirteen, he still wasn't a particularly big kid, but his ability to verbally spar made him a target for kids whose bodies had outgrown their brains, and she needed to get that God damned door open now.

As the silence behind Jim's door gave way to the sound of raised voices and the threat of raised fists, and as Winona tried to keep her hands steady enough so that the paper clip reached the pressure plate inside the lock, she couldn't help but think to herself, _If I didn't fuck up so much, I wouldn't need to do this._

*****

Winona hadn't even seen Frank in months before his death, let alone spoken to him. The anger she felt towards him had long given way to pity and then apathy. She reserved all judgment for herself, especially at night, looking up at the Iowa sky and thinking about Jim and how whatever dangers he faced out there were nothing compared to the dangers she'd allowed him to endure here on Earth. 

"How's he doing?" Winona asked, wishing she was brave enough to ask Jim herself.

"He's keeping busy, which is easy since we're leaving in two hours," Dr. McCoy replied. Winona couldn't quite bring herself to call him Leonard, even though he'd given her the option the first time they'd met. His friendship had steadied her son in ways she felt had earned him a respect she didn't have a clue how to honor properly, and so Dr. McCoy he'd remained. She worried this made her seem standoffish, but the fact that he'd gotten in touch with her, that he'd felt it was important to let her know about Frank's repentant message to Jim, was a sign that he understood more than she deserved. 

"He's currently on the bridge, but if you'd like, I can—"

"No, no, that's okay. I don't know what I'd say to him anyway, besides the usual. Stay safe, keep out of trouble."

McCoy laughed, his eyes alight with obvious affection. "You've probably been saying those words to Jim since he was knee high."

"Exactly, and he wouldn't hear them anymore now than he did then, and what I probably should have said instead was . . ."

_You're a lot like your father, and that's okay._

_You're different from your father, and that's okay, too._

_If you don't fuck up, you never learn a damn thing in life, so that's okay, Jim, that's okay._

"You okay?" McCoy asked.

Winona shook her head but smiled, wondering if she could ever direct some of those words to herself and mean them the way she meant them for her son. 

"Just . . ."

"Keep him safe and out of trouble?" McCoy finished for her, the expression on his face so earnest it hurt to see, knowing he probably had better luck with keeping Jim safe than she'd ever managed—knowing it had little to do with luck at all.

"Please," she answered. Then she wished him a safe journey, asked him to give Jim a kiss for her (and marveled at the blush McCoy produced while saying sure, fine, no problem), and then they both signed off.

"If you don't fuck up," she said to herself, trying it out, "you don't learn."

Winona figured she still had a lot of fucking up left to do, and maybe that was just fine.

 

**end**


End file.
